


No Longer Solus

by DenverMC



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Qrow Branwen, Bisexuality, Boyfriends, Clover Ebi-centric, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Character, Gay Clover Ebi, Gay Male Character, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Post-Volume 3 (RWBY), Qrow Branwen-centric, RWBY - Freeform, Short, Short & Sweet, Shorts, Sickfic, Volume 7 (RWBY), Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28110084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenverMC/pseuds/DenverMC
Summary: ♦️Strong feelings develop between a brooding huntsman with a dark past named Qrow Branwen, and a happy-go-lucky soldier named Clover Ebi. Like any other relationship, it has it's ups and downs, and we follow them through it all.♦️
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. First Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoy these! They are super fun to write! Basically, there’s a small narrative between all the chapters, but they can be read as individual one shots or short stories. There is no huge overarching plot, these are just a collection of fluffy, angsty, and slice of life stories that follow Qrow & Clover after they meet. 
> 
> I've made a few alterations to the canon of volume 7. The situation doesn't get nearly as bad as it did in the show. Ironwood and the rest were filled in on everything from the very beginning, and the relic has been locked away. Salem's goons may still be a problem, but her overall plans and ultimate goals will just have to wait another generation or two. These stories won’t have anything to do with volume 8 or beyond.
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated, and even suggestions for what you may want to see! :)

_QROW'S POV_

The day we arrived in Atlas was one of the most chaotic days we've had in a while. So much so that even after a couple days rest, everyone was still dragging their heels walking into our first ever mission briefing here.

"This sucks! After the years of torturous training you people have inflicted on me, my body should've adjusted by now," Jaune groaned, massaging the soreness away from his hip.

"Enough with the whining you big baby!" Nora snapped, glaring at him from eyes blemished by painfully noticeable dark circles. She took a sip from her thermos of rapidly depleting coffee, about ready to spit it on him.

"For goodness sake Jaune, we get it already. Suck it up, it's not like we're feeling any better," said Ren, inserting himself between the two. Good call, since Nora was getting more confrontational by the moment.

Yang, Ruby, and the other two of their team stifled a shared chuckle, watching them from the peanut gallery. "Speak for yourselves," Yang giggled.

"This isn't fair! I'm supposed to be in the best shape of my life!" Jaune cried. He's clearly being mellow dramatic just for the sake of it, and it was getting on my last nerve.

"Kids! That's enough." I said, pressing my palm into my aching head. I took a swig from my warm paper coffee cup. Gods, do I wish it had a little splash of bourbon, or whiskey. Just enough to get me through this morning. I'm drowning in a sea of intense alcoholic cravings, and teenage whining spells about stupid little aches & pains! Somebody please, rescue me...

Ruby's soft fingers rested against my arm. "Are you okay? I have some Advil in one of my pockets if you..."

"Naw kiddo I'm good. Thanks," I smiled warmly, meeting her dollish silver eyes which beamed with concern. Looking at her adorably kind face, it's as if a small ray of sunlight had cut through the stormy fog of my morning mood. "Why are you carrying Advil around? Are you sore?"

"Ummm..."

I laughed, knowing well she wanted to maintain her facade of iron strength and invincibility. Unlike some of the crybabies in this room...

"GOOD MORNING PRECIOUS NEWBIES!"

Elm, that large chick, bellowed at us as if she were calling for someone with impaired hearing... from a mile away. Her and the rest of the operatives strode single-file into the briefing room.

With their grand entrance, the straw that broke the camel's back had arrived... "Ruby, Advil. Now!"

_ CLOVER'S POV _

"So, you and these kids go way back? Is that right General?" I inquired, as me and General Ironwood made our way through the tangled maze of Atlas Academy's halls to the briefing room.

He was busy fiddling around with important notices on his scroll. It's a wonder how he never accidentally steers himself into the walls, especially since there was a twist and a turn every which way in this area of the school. "Indeed we do," he answered. "In the weeks I'd spent with them during the last festival, I've come to know them as exceptional fighters. Well, most of them anyways. What I'm saying is, Oz did a good job in finding fresh personalities to pass the torch to."

"I've gotta say, that's a relief to hear," I said, pulling out my scroll. I flip through the profiles of our new recruits, trying my best to quickly soak in as much detail as possible. I aimed to learn their faces, and the names attached. I get past Oscar and the remainder of Team JNPR. A spark of sorrow flickers in me, as the details in their file revealed the recent death of one of their teammates. _She was so young, how unfortunate,_ I thought.

Scrolling through the profiles of Team RWBY, I could gather from their faces alone that their personalities were likely quite... vibrant. Finally I got to the one person over the age of 20 in this gang, Qrow Branwen. His picture held my attention for a moment, not giving me the time to go over the extra tidbits his file contained. Harsh crimson eyes pierced sharply through the screen, throwing a look of mistrust. The photo resembled an angry criminal's mugshot more than it did a standard issue license. Yet, despite the brash intensity of his gaze, the rest of his expression had a softer, slightly melancholic undercurrent. Studying his face, I could tell this man had probably been through hell. Especially if he couldn't let his guard down long enough to take a simple snapshot...

"So, General, you've known the esteemed huntsman Qrow Branwen for a long time haven't you?" I asked, somewhat hoping he'd divulge some insight about the mind of this guy, more than I could gather by going over the basic information in the file.

"Yes, Qrow and I have worked together with Oz for many years. He was a huge pain in the ass. Drunk out of his mind basically every moment I spent with him. But, if I'm being honest I could see why Oz wanted to keep him around. His skill on the battlefield and drive to succeed on missions is almost unmatched, and considering where he comes from, it's by the grace of the gods that he ended up on our side and not, well... his sister's."

With only a few steps remaining to the entrance of the briefing room, I stole a quick final glance at Qrow's picture before pocketing my scroll. There was an extraordinary quality to this man, I could feel it in my gut. However I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Plus... he was quite handsome—in a rough, rugged, rebellious sort of way. Even though I saw Qrow Branwen in person twice since they arrived, my focus was elsewhere. Very little of his face stayed in my memory, and I didn't even get the chance to notice what color his eyes were.

"You ready to finally get properly acquainted with our new arrivals?" asked the General.

"Yes sir," I replied, with a smirk that exuded what the team calls, ‘my signature confidence.’

The thick metal entrance to the briefing area slid open, revealing a familiar room more crowded than I'd ever seen it. The new arrivals were already there, along with my team. And it looked as if them and the new characters were mingling fairly well. All except Qrow Brawnwen, who was leaning against the wall most distant from everyone else in the room, just observing.

"Good morning everyone," said Ironwood. The other four operatives snapped a salute and exchanged pleasantries with us.

One by one I formally greeted and introduced myself to each of the nine new bodies. "It's an honor to be here working for you and the General," said young Ruby Rose, her eyes as wide and excited as a puppy's.

I warmly grinned. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well Miss Rose. I look forward to working with you," I said, taking her hand for a firm shake.

At last I made my way down to the final individual in line for morning greetings. "Qrow Branwen. I must say it's really nice to meet you. I've heard of what you've managed to accomplish on some of your missions, and I must say, it's made me a fan."

As I looked into those glinting red eyes not tinted by any blue from a scroll screen, my grin grew wider. It was verging into goofy territory, so I did my best to stop it in its tracks. Clearing my throat, I offered my hand for a shake. "I look forward to working with you."

His expression was considerably softer, unlike the headshot. A tired disinterest replaced the intensity in his eyes, making me infer that he already had his preconceived notions set.

Without a twitch of change in his expression, Qrow uncrossed his arms and took my hand in his. "Yeah," he uttered simply before taking it away.

My eyes lingered on his face perhaps a second longer than they should've. _I really hope he doesn't think I'm some entitled arrogant jock, like everyone else does when they first see me. I know our first impression wasn't exactly the best, but I apologized, didn't I?_ I thought.

Giving Qrow a polite nod, I turn my attention to the rest of the room ready to begin the mission briefing. "Alright people, gather around..."

**********

_ QROW'S POV _

A slight bit of relief washed over me as the biting chill of the fresh Solitas air cleared some of the morning fog in my head. I was worried this headache would continue to linger, as it'd been buzzing around me like a persistent gnat ever since the withdrawal symptoms kicked in. I'd gone cold-turkey for nearly three days, and it definitely shortened my fuse. When the kids go off on one of their annoying little ramblings I usually just blocked it out. However with the cravings for alcohol plaguing every facet of my body, the noises they made were like added gunk that further clogged the turning gears of my brain. Thinking and concentrating was rendered impossible, and the urge to simply throw in the towel and drink became all the more persistent.

So, it was nice to have a little space from them. For this mission only had me with one person, and even though I would have rather it'd been with anyone else but Jimmy's right-hand-suckup, at least this guy was quiet. And whenever he did talk, at least he didn't have a voice that registered as "gunk" in my brain.

Him and I sat on opposite ends of the airship as it carried us to the dust mine where this supposed extra hostile geist had set up shop. The whole way through, this Clover guy was nose deep in his scroll, but he wasn't tapping on anything or scrolling with his fingers. _What in the world is so fascinating on that tiny 6 inch screen?_ I wondered.

He caught one of my periodic glances and looked up. A minuscule smile cracked upon his face, then he returned to looking at whatever it was he was looking at. Perhaps a movie? But there was no sound. Maybe it was captioned? Oh-well, it was none of my business.

**********

The mission to eliminate the geist grimm and secure the agitated dust crystals came and went, and I've got to say, those special operatives Jimmy handpicked were no slouches, and were definitely interesting in more ways than one...

The mission was over in a breeze and as more time passed, the chronology of the day seemed to blend together. All the elements of the mission became a blur in my mind, but one aspect of it continued to stick out, refusing to mesh with the other events of that day. It wasn't a single event that evaded my forgetfulness, but rather a whole person. Clover Ebi.

For some reason my mind couldn't shake off anything he said, anything he did. Hell, even any cheerful determined expression his face displayed. It all stayed with me, and I couldn't stop thinking about him.

From the moment I saw him that day, I was perplexed. His smile was warm and sincere when he gave us all a proper introduction. He was encouraging to his team—who functioned like a well-oiled machine under his guidance. Finally I noticed how confident he was, not in the jerk-ass way I expected but in a harmless, playful, and competitive way.

From our initial harsh welcome when he captured us and gazed down with that insufferable smirk, I thought I had this Clover guy all figured out. After all, he was selected by that egotistical stick-in-the-mud to be the lead attack-dog of his personal army of five.

However, as it turns out my initial assessment of this man may in fact had probably been little bit... off. It's a rarity when it happens. With his terrible first impression being my only basis for his character, Clover seemed like the easiest guy in the world to pin a stereotype to. Perhaps I was a little hasty in doing that. I simply didn't think it was possible for this man to be anything other than a sycophantic drone. A cutthroat and ruthless snake in the grass, just like Jimmy in his younger years. Why else would metal-daddy have picked him?

While Clover's flip of my expectations certainly surprised me, it normally wouldn't be enough to keep his image swimming around in my brain for that long. No, the main reason Clover Ebi had been burned into my every thought for the past couple days is because of one moment. It was a moment only lasting as long as it took to lace a shoe, but it's impact left me feeling like I had been whacked in the gut by Nora's electrified mallet.

After he was nearly crushed to death by a falling boulder, I figured warning him about my semblance would be the responsible thing to do. My little admission didn't phase him. Instead, his response exuded a confident knowing.

 _Of course..._ rang my thoughts in that moment. Jimmy must've filled all of them in on that little factoid, seeing as how much of a liability I could become.

Be that as it may, it's as if an opportunity Clover had been waiting for had finally made itself open, and he followed it up by breaking the news that his semblance was indeed, the perfect parallel to mine. Good fortune.

When he told me, even the homegrown cynicism rooted deep in the trenches of my psyche didn't pick up on any morsel of boastfulness or superiority. On the contrary, he gave off a vibe of curiosity, intrigue, and strangest of all, excitement. Excitement that he, Clover, had an opportunity to ease a shoulder heavy with the burden of constant worry. And an opportunity to make someone who's been completely and utterly miserable, happier.

Had he stopped there, my cynical inferences on what was going through Clover's mind would have eventually crept in, and taken over. _Poor, sad Qrow Branwen needs a grand savior to fix his broken mental state, and afterward I'll have yet another devotee who worships the very ground I walk on._

His words, as sincere as they were, would've eventually offended me, and validated my notion of an overinflated ego typical of people in these high ranking military positions. However, the next words out of his mouth combined with a certain gesture shot down my cynicism right where it stood. Instead, a cornucopia of confusion and bewilderment took its place.

"Lucky you, huh?" Clover said, as he _winked_.

My eyes blew up as wide as saucers, and my face froze in a state of sheer shock that no doubt, came to Clover's satisfaction. Was he flirting with me now?! Most likely not, but what if he was? Even if he wasn't, this playful gesture raised up hopes in me that Clover is indeed, just one of those decent guys who finds happiness by making other people happy. A rare breed in my experience, and one that's worth having as a friend.

The more my mind forced me to think of Clover Ebi, the more I wondered, what would it be like to have someone in my life to whom my semblance would have no ill effect? The possibility that he wanted me in his life made me unconsciously weigh the pros and cons. And, if the cynical assumptions I've made about him never proved to be true, no cons were visible at all. Clover seemed nice, caring, talented, genuine, optimistic... and somehow he'd made a connection with me? How? I certainly wasn't the most jovial during the mission. In fact, we hardly spoke.

Sinking deeper into the black crevasse of my mind, I thought about his added wink. The possibility that this signified flirting opened my mind up to something I hadn't thought about in quite a long time.

As I pondered more and more, certain features about him came to mind. As a man he was certainly aesthetically pleasing, and every time that friendly smile or confident smirk appeared in my adamant daydreaming, a waterfall of nerves puddled in my stomach.

_Agggh!_ Those thoughts were driving me absolutely crazy! But on the bright side, it provided a decent distraction from the plague of alcoholic cravings. Now, I needed a distraction from my distraction. But unfortunately it wouldn't come anytime soon, as those thoughts continuously raged in me as I made my way to the air space for another mission with, you guessed it, Clover.

"Qrow! Good to see you again."

I glanced up to see Clover turning away from the other operatives and making his way towards me.

"Man, I'm excited! Ready to go?" he mused, putting his hand on my shoulder.

A moment passed, and his fingers did a gentle squeeze. I couldn't help but freeze once again. I could've passed it off as my trademark stoicism, if it weren't for the bright pink spilling its way across my face. It was painfully obvious to anyone with competent eyesight, and I couldn't stop myself from tilting my head downward to avoid his glistening turquoise eyes, and ever widening smile...


	2. The Free Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♦️Election night in Atlas rolls around, and a night off is granted. Clover and Qrow receive unexpected invitations.

_ CLOVER'S POV _

Time flies when you're having fun, as the saying goes. Ever since our new arrivals basically infiltrated the borders of our kingdom, the past couple of months had soared by as fast as the blizzarding winds.

Being the leader of the highest ranking huntsman cabinet in all of Atlas, life before certainly wasn't dull. However the strict militant routine combined with a seemingly endless line of identical grimm extermination missions resulted in a strong feeling of the passing years becoming... monotonous. Not that it was a bad thing, as everyday I was very grateful for the position I held, and the blessings life had bestowed upon me. However, a person eventually needed more in his life than mountains of paperwork and a career where the days had become indistinguishable from one another.

Since graduating from Atlas Academy in my early twenties, all I would have for many years to come was my career. Climbing the ranks of the largest, most advanced, most ridgid military in all of Remnant meant my time would have to be devoted to the General, and nothing else. Life outside of work simply didn't exist. Old friends fell away, the only family I had (my parents) had been cut off ever since the fall of Beacon, and the last relationship I was in became so interfering that it also had to be thrown to the wolves as a sacrifice to my military duties. After work, I had a room-suite at the academy with an atmosphere about as uniform and sterile as a surgical OR, and nothing else.

Now, short of succeeding General Ironwood one day, I had climbed about as high as was possible for my career. Ever since those ten came to Atlas, the workload substantially lessened. More free time was afforded to me, and it was a void that screamed to be filled with something—or someone. Lucky for me, it appeared "someone" with that potential had finally arrived.

Sure, I had the other Ace Ops, but as their boss it was understandable they'd prefer to keep a strict professional distance. They were a kind, lively bunch, and I did my best to be the type of leader who was known as a laid back and friendly guy. Someone to whom they could be themselves around, even on missions. However, that still didn't make us close by any means, and maybe it'd be better if it stayed that way.

Qrow Branwen however, was different. The writing on his face became plainer the longer we worked together, and it became glaringly obvious that Qrow had a similar deep void in his life, perhaps more gaping and treacherous than mine. He, more than anyone, not only wanted but needed a friend. Hell, after all that he'd been through he _deserved_ a good friend. Which brings me back to the past couple of months, and how this stretch of time had solidified itself as being the highlight of my past couple of _years_.

It wasn't the easiest at first, Qrow Branwen was a tough nut to crack. Our long rides through the tundra remained achingly silent. My very presence alone made him uncomfortable, like a bird who'd flown in through a bedroom window that was shut immediately after, cutting off its only route to escape. His eyes darted from mine, and he always drew away from any attempt to start up a conversation. He seemed contentedly normal around everyone else, but around me it was as if all the oxygen had fizzled out of his lungs. Despite his cold shoulder, I knew he felt _something_ for me. The persistent silence wasn't from the intent of expressing dislike, but from the thralls of pure shyness.

I decided this couldn't go on, as he was the first man in a long time I had also felt something for. What that feeling was, I couldn't quite place. All I knew was that making a connection, and breaking through his tough exterior would somehow be worth it.

The key to finally breaking through his reservedness became clear to me the more I observed him on missions. Whenever we were tasked with chasing down criminals or clearing out packs of grimm, Qrow exuded a resounding competitiveness. It's something he and I both shared—so I placed my bets, and figured this would be my way in. One day while riding in the back of a transport unit, he agreed to try his hand at beating me in a game of cards. I got him to buckle by thrusting so much smugness and arrogance upon him, that any competitive spirit could never resist a chance at smacking it down. One round turned into two, and two into five, and so on until the transport came to an end. Turned out I was right! Progress had been made, and from that exciting day onward, slowly but surely that armored shell of his molted off.

From there he grew comfortable with simply talking to me and maintaining eye contact. I did my best to provide him with encouragement. He was always very down on himself for one reason or another, so on those sparse occasions when I managed to coax a smile or a blush from him, I was elated with a spark of indescribable joy.

Our conversations grew deeper, and became peppered with bouts of laughter and casual joking—more than I had done with anyone in a long time. The excruciatingly long rides from base to base, previously being an annoying cross to bear, were now something I looked forward to and thought about as I sat secluded in my living space. A joke or an interesting question sometimes popped into my head during those lonely hours, and I couldn't wait to tell or ask Qrow about it the next day. Excitement filled my bones whenever I was struck with ideas of new fighting combinations or tactics we could try, and an exhilarated fire raged in my chest when Qrow would come up to me with suggestions of his own. Even just watching the esteemed huntsman in action nearly took my breath away. His moves were always near psychic, and his undeniable talent and strategy smacked me with sheer awe. Even the General didn’t seem to match his skill.

Qrow became the person I wished was with me during fits of boredom, and I could tell he felt the same way. When the day's assignments had the two of us riding along with someone else for a lengthy mission, I'd catch a look of disappointment. When those red eyes briefly casted themselves to the ground and he walked away with a hint of lumbering sulkiness, a twinge of guilt would sweep over me, as noticing that look gave me sort of a tickled thrill. The thrill that comes from knowing your crush enjoys your company, perhaps as much as you enjoy theirs. But fortunately the disappointment wouldn't last, as when we'd arrive back at base after such missions, I'd go up to him and ask about his day, hoping it'd segway into deeper conversation. And eventually, he even started coming up to me himself, asking about my day and whether or not I had time for a quick sparring match.

As I'd hoped, all the effort spent into getting him to open up was well worth it. I finally had someone who gave me the genuine connection I desired, and made my days less matched. This would especially become evident on one particular day where for the first time, a free day I was granted had plans attached that didn't involve unwinding in front of the TV, or shoving down drinks at the bar across the road.

**********

Gradually, day was ebbing into night as the bright blue of the sky slowly gave way to weltering oranges and pinks coming in from behind the mountains. I soaked in the beautiful view as I made my way to the special lounge area designated for the five of us operatives. It was a little building secluded in a hidden yard of the school. It's large windows offered breathtaking views of the tundra landscape, and the individual eccentricities of us five were visible in every piece of furniture & decoration that was littered around the place. It's where we kept the lockers that held our weapons and other commodities, but it was also a nice place to just relax or let off steam.

I authenticated myself with my scroll and let myself in, and I was a little caught off guard. It was rare when all five of us were in there at the same time, and for a brief moment I was caught up in the unusualness of it all, until I remembered why. Tonight was election night and the General permitted us to take the rest of the day off.

Shutting the door, I caught the attention of the others. They looked up at me, ceasing fumbling around inside their lockers and grinding up coffee beans in preparation for the next morning.

"Clover!"Elm gleamed. "Do you have plans for tonight? Oh who are we kidding of course you don't!"

"Hmph," I snickered, opening my locker. Therein lay files, books, and papers all as neatly organized as parts of a healthily functioning machine—unlike the heaps of filth that spilled out of Elm's whenever she opened hers. "You'd be correct, I don't. Why?"

She gestured towards Harriet, who swiped something from her pocket and leaped in front of me.

"Check it out!" Harriet said, grinning. "You know that trendy new night club a few minutes away from here? They’re hosting the band Pinkslip tonight, and I've just so happened to score five tickets!" she said, on the verge of jumping up and down.

I raised an eyebrow. This little surprise was the last thing I expected for tonight. "And you want me to go with you...? Me? Your boss? Your tyrannically shrill hard-ass of a boss?"

Harriet jabbed my arm. "You only wish you earned that type of fear from us, _boss_. Yes, we want you to come. Also, why don't you invite that new buddy of yours?"

Warmth took ahold of my cheeks for a moment. "Qrow?"

"Who else, Cloves? Yeah, the one that's made you exceptionally chipper these past couple of weeks," said Harriet.

My eyes widened slightly. "But you said there were only five tickets."

"Yeah..." Marrow sighed, slumping away from the counter where the coffee was being prepared. He leaned his shoulder against a wall, petulantly crossing his arms. "Me and Professor White won't be able to go, we're still on duty for the night."

"Marrow," Harriet sneered, gritting through her teeth. 

I laughed smugly under my breath. "I see. So White was your original fifth body, and I just so happen to be your last choice. Lucky me."

"Marrow!" Elm boomed, stomping her way towards his presence. "Just because you're pissy at the General for making you miss _one_ concert doesn't mean you have to—“

"Calm down." Vine interjected. "It's your own fault you can't go Marrow. All of us have been busting our chops and we deserve a nice long break. But you... You thought you could slack off—bolting to the xBox in this room, and nobody would notice?"

Marrow responded only by narrowing his glare and tightening the cross of his arms.

"Clover I swear, it's not like that at all. We all just figured you'd still be on duty. I mean, I can count on one hand how many breaks you've taken in the years we've worked together," said Harriet.

I sighed, tucking Kingfisher into my locker and clanking the metal door shut. "Well, I've gotta admit, my long standing curiosity about how wild Elm could get at a rave is begging to be satiated,” I said, bouncing around with the idea in my head.

Elm grinned devilishly, crushing her fist into her other hand. "You. Aren't. Ready."

"Is that a yes?" Harriet asked, flaming with the excitement that she'd at least get her money's worth.

I stroked my chin curiously. I hadn't been to a night club since I needed a fake ID to slip in. Memories out of the realm of vagueness began to creep back. Memories of my drunken idiotic sixteen year old self making a fool of himself on the dance floor; enjoying the pulsing thrums rumbling through his body as he moshed right next to a booming subwoofer. Embarrassing as it was, it was thrilling. The more my body remembered the deep bass vibrations of the energetic electro pop that was oh-so-popular back then, the more enticed by the offer I became. "I don't know. What type of group is Pinkslip? I've never heard of them," I asked.

Elm shot herself to my side and slung her arm over my shoulders. "Oh Clover, you’re less connected than an invalid that’s stuck in their room with an old TV that has only one channel. But eh, that's something we can work on later."

"They're the most popular all girl pop-rock sensation right now! A buddy of mine who works at the club also told me that the band opening for Pinkslip is pretty awesome as well. This is their first gig so who knows, we might witness the breakout performance of a future icon," said Harriet, trying to contain her eagerness.

I threw a mocking but playful smirk at Vine. "An all girl pop-rock sensation you say..."

His eyes sprung wide and a light blush caressed his cheeks. "Hey, I'm only going because all of you are going and—“

"I'm just messing with ya! Sounds really cool actually. Alright, I'll go with you guys." I conceded.

"That’s a relief. For a second I thought I was gonna have to start breaking fingers!" said Elm, giving my nose a tiny boop before unshackling the back of my neck. 

"Yeah, hooray," grumbled Marrow in a lazed tone that oozed sarcasm. He secured his weapon to his back and slinked his way out of the lounge, slamming the door with impudence.

Elm scoffed. "And he has the nerve to throw "kid" around as an insult."

"Anyways, you should tell Qrow now. They’ll stop admitting people in about two and a half hours," Harriet said.

I frowned, shuffling back a few steps. "I— I don't think that's the best idea. Isn't there anyone else who can have the ticket?"

Elm sighed disappointedly. "Why? Rumor has it he can drink anyone under the table. I was really looking forward to putting that to the test!"

"Yeah, why not? I thought you two were thick as thieves. Did you have a falling out?" asked Harriet.

"No!" I answered, a little too quickly. "He's just— He’s newly sober. He quit drinking only a couple months ago. I don't think going to a place where half the fun is downing the newest fashionable cocktail experiment would be his idea of a good time."

"Wow, I'm sorry. I didn't know," said Elm. Vine nodded in shared perplexity.

"Plus he's not really a guy who enjoys being in crowds. I'm not sure this would be his thing," I added, thinking back to one of our conversations on a transport unit. He admitted as such, that ever since he laid off the sauce, being around and interacting with people had become considerably more taxing on his nerves. Even though I was fully in understanding of the reservations Qrow may have had, a large piece of me really wanted him to come. It would be our first time hanging out in a social setting completely unrelated to work. Perhaps even, a first date?

_No_ , my thoughts immediately rebuffed. _Making this a date would be a little too much, a little too soon. He just started opening up to me, I don't want to ruin it!_

Harriet nodded. "I understand, but you could ask him anyways. If he says no, fine. But we'd really like to take this opportunity to get to know him a little more. He's so mysterious—as opposed to those kids who can't seem to stop blabbing on and on about themselves."

Vine stepped forward, resting a hand on Harriet's shoulder. "How about this, if he comes we promise to not drink any alcohol."

"Excuse you?" Elm interjected abruptly.

"Yep, we'll stand in solidarity. No alcohol. There's always the possibility the General could call us back to work anyways. We just want to hang out, talk, and enjoy the live music. That's all," said Harriet. She and Vine shot death glares over at Elm.

"Fine!" she stoutly huffed.

I smiled, genuinely touched at this tiny gesture of kindness. Excitement for the night grew, as now there seemed more likely a chance that I'd also be spending it with Qrow. "Alright," I nodded. "I'll ask him."

**********

As I paced my way back into the academy's main building, I gave Qrow a call from my scroll. With each ring, the iron fingers pressed into my anxious gut ever so tighter.

"Yeah?" he answered in his rough gravelly tone.

"Hello Qrow. Are you in your room currently?" I asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Oh, great. If it's okay I'd like to come up, there's something I want to ask you."

There was a pause on the other end. Waiting for his response, a beat of sweat slid down my forehead. 

"Why can't you ask me now? Is there something... wrong?" he said, a bit of dread slipping through.

"Nothings wrong. Okay I'll just ask you here then." I chuckled in an effort to immediately absolve him of his worry.

"Ask me what soldier-boy?"

I fumbled around my brain, searching frantically for a way to word this so a definite confirmation of his attendance would be sealed. The longer we spoke, the more I wanted his company.

"I want you to come out with me tonight. I mean... come out with me, Elm, Harriet, and Vine. You know that new nightclub just a few blocks away from the school?"

"You want me to go with you guys to a nightclub?" he responded, the hesitation in his voice blatant.

"Harriet got tickets to see a live performance from a famous band, and there's an extra one—for you. Really we'll just go, and hang out, and listen to some live music. So, do you want to go?" I said, being mindful to stifle any crack in my voice. The reason for my sudden shyness was evading even my understanding. I mean, it wasn't as if I was asking him on an official date.

Qrow answered, seemingly without any consideration. "Nah. I'll just cramp everyone's style. Besides, you know as well as I that being the only one among you who can't drink would be a major buzzkill for my mood."

"Well you're in luck mister, it just so happens that none of us will be drinking. Even though General Ironwood gave us the night off, he could still call us back at any moment. Better to keep a sober head, just in case!"

"Wait, there's an important election going on tonight. Wouldn't you people want to keep constant tabs on the numbers? Seeing as how the results could drastically effect your careers in the future," said Qrow.

"Psssh. Robyn is going to win. With the early numbers rolling in, the lead is insurmountable. I know it, they know it, the General knows it, everyone knows it. So c'mon! Let's just take our minds off it, and go have a little bit of fun! Please?"

Qrow took a moment. "I don't know. When are you guys going?"

"In a couple hours, I know it's very short notice, but I, I mean we, really want to hang out with you Qrow. I promise you can leave as soon as you're not feeling it anymore. So please, come?"

I waited in eager anticipation, partly frustrated. The absence of his face in front of me placed severe limits on my ability to glean what his answer may be.

"Easy soldier..." Qrow chuckled through the line. "Desperate much? Okay fine. I'll go. What else have I got to do anyways."

I laughed. His words rang with sensation through my ears. "You and I both. So I'll swing by your dorm at around 8?"

"I can just meet you there. It's the club known as the Silver Bridges, right?"

"But I have to give you your ticket. Trust me, it'll be easier if we ride together." I bit my lip, reeling back any further presses of strong insistence.

"Okay," he answered shortly.

"Alright. See you then." I ended the call, taking a blissful moment to bask in my accomplishment. Then I made my way back to my suite.

***********

Nearly two hours later, I was all spruced up thanks to the spectacular delights of a good shower, slick hair product, fancy cologne, and a freshly pressed uniform. The other operatives told me it'd be best to stay in our military gear, as it drew in those wide-eyed gazes of pure intrigue and recognition so dear to the hearts of those with sizable egos.

I strode my way up to Qrow's dorm, making it past the cafeteria and nearly to the last corridor when suddenly, I picked up on the voices of a couple of our fresh recruits, Blake and Yang. They came out of a door from behind and didn't seem to notice me.

"Thanks to you, my image here will be ruined. It gives you immense pleasure to see friends humiliated doesn't it?" Blake said, laughing reservedly.

"Don't worry! We've made a lot of progress with your dancing. So your image might be stained, but nowhere near unsalvageable," said Yang.

"Fantastic," Blake sighed. "So, your uncle certainly had fun rubbing in our faces that he gets to see the band at the other club, and we don't. How did he manage to get tickets, when they were sold out by the time we got to Atlas?"

"That Clover dude gave it to him, but whatever! I heard Silver Bridges is the most pretentious thing anyways."

"Speaking of that Clover dude, he and Qrow really seemed to have clicked am I right?" said Blake.

My heart palpitated. Just as I was beginning to tune them out, eager curiosity commanded that I eavesdrop further.

"I guess so. I think it's a good thing. He needs more people closer to his age to hang out with. I'm sure he's long had his fill of ‘us kids’ by now," said Yang.

"Is it just me, or has he seemed really different since we've arrived here? He seems... happier. Not just that, but nicer and more approachable. I'm not gonna lie, every time we were alone with him it was as if icicles the size of waffle cones dangled from our ears," said Blake.

"I know right? At first I thought it was because he gave up drinking. But when I was a kid, every time he tried quitting, his mood always got worse. Shorter temper, longer depressive episodes, less confidence in his abilities..."

"You think Clover has something to do with it?"

"Yes," answered Yang. "Before, when he tried to quit, he had no one who really offered him any strong support. Even Tai never acknowledged that it was possible. Maybe that's all he really needed."

"I hope so. Clover's intentions better be good. I mean, do you see the way he leers at your uncle's ass during the morning briefings?"

"Blaaake!" Yang screeched. The kiss of a deep blush was obvious in her voice—a blush mirroring the redness scorching its way across my face as well...

_Oh man... leering?! I swear it was only a glance,_ my thoughts rang in utter mortification. _Did EVERYONE notice?!_

Their spills of hysterical laughter faded as they trotted down the halls.

Clearing my throat, I made the rest of my way towards Qrow's room. Hopefulness and worry filled my every thought as I approached the door. My determination to see this night go off without a hitch was in that moment, as strong as my desire to succeed in my career. _Everything will be fine. I'll make SURE he has a good time. Nothing will go wrong. You won't mess everything up, and scare him away forever..._

Swallowing, I lifted my hand and knocked on his door.  
  


_ QROW'S POV _

Clover, as punctual as the hands of a ticking clock, arrived at my dorm at exactly eight PM. Even though his arrival had been anticipated for the past couple of hours, a cold cocktail of nerves and excitement poured down my neck like ice water at the sound of his knocking.

I made my way to the door and as I opened it, a crisp scent reminiscent of picturesque forests of pine wafted in; I didn't know if I liked it or not. Even if I happened to find it pungent, long exposure throughout the night would no doubt attenuate it's assault on my senses, and maybe it could be rendered tolerable... I guess.

"Hey man!" Clover greeted, smiling wide. "Ready to kick my ass on the dance floor?" There he stood, somehow appearing more clean cut and chiseled than usual. We were both in our standard battle gear, but obviously Clover took more time with the sprucing than I did.

"I only dance when I'm drunk enough to bust the breathalyzer," I chuckled, sliding through the half opened door—careful not to expose too much of the garbage pail that was my room. Normally I wouldn't have cared, but something about this man made me feel and act in ways that baffled me beyond belief. I'm just glad the shyness that crippled me in our early days here had passed.

Looking back on why the nervousness hung around me like a noose, I reckoned it came from a fear that's had me strangled in its cold metal grip ever since the good ol' days of childhood. The fear of letting myself grow close to someone.

Clover was the first person I'd met to whom my semblance could have finally met its match. I always viewed my power as a curse, a curse that brought nothing but havoc and resentment, but a curse in which one person, Clover, was immune. He was friendly, cheerful, and even a twinge naive. He was an attractive man, body and soul. However my stupid newly sober brain ridden with eons of trauma and memories of screwing up every stable connection I managed to create, wouldn't permit me to say a word to him. Every time I looked at Clover, or was with him, or heck, even _smelt_ him, I wanted to drink. I wanted to get hammered. I wanted my old lack of emotions, my old lack of feelings, my old thoughts, my old self back so badly. This new sober rendition of Qrow Branwen might as well have been a complete stranger. I knew that if I were drunk, the anxiety and lust would stop chasing each other around so ravenously in my stomach. This wasn't me at all, and looking in the mirror—at this timid man who wilted like a flower in front of someone who jumbled his feelings so heartily—made me sick to my stomach.

Lucky for me, it appeared that the antidote to this awful affliction came in the form of not alcohol, but in Clover himself. Being around him grew easier once the ice was broken by that game of cards he coaxed me into playing. Those irrational thoughts that so fervently kept my tongue silent found little rationale to its fear once we started actually talking, and the words I was saying weren't messing everything up. The more we talked and the more my knowledge of him grew, the more fond of him I found myself becoming, and it went beyond those initial feelings that short circuited my brain.

"Nice cologne. Very... lumberjack," I said with a splinter of mockery.

With a smugness that was equal parts playful and infuriating, he anchored his muscular arm in a flex and kissed his bicep. "Yep, that's totally what I was aimin' for. Come on, the others are waiting for us in the transport." He turned and started walking, but suddenly paused. "And Qrow?" he called, tilting his head back.

"Yeah?"

He softly grinned. "Thank you for coming,"

**********

Once we waved passed the long line that carried us through the decorous gated entrance of the Silver Bridges Nightclub, our group of five was bombarded by young ravers looking to snap pictures and shake hands with Atlas's finest heroes. The vibrant colors of their outfits meshed together in a sickeningly bright spiral as they swarmed all around us—making my head spin with dizziness. Were regular grays and blacks just not popular anymore?

"Guys, this way!" Harriet said, pushing through the star-struck crowd. "Elm! That's enough selfies. Say goodbye, and let's hurry to the VIP gate. Word is they overbooked it again!"

Elm was posing with what were likely a group of wealthy sorority girls, and didn't give an inch to Harriet's order. "So what if the tables are filled. You'll get a refund! Besides, the real fun is out here!"

"But the VIP tables are the closest seats to the stage," said Vine.

Harriet stomped over and yanked Elm by the wrist out of the tangled grasps of her adorning fans.

I groaned, looking over at Clover who was directly at my side. The atmosphere of shiny black balloons and galant silvers made the deep hues of his outfit and the bright green of his eyes pop. "It's about time we started moving. I've been standing here for twenty minutes watching you all give autographs and take pictures. I'd rather deep-fry my own hand and eat it than stand here another minute," I sneered. He looked back at me with those glistening green eyes. The colorful strobes of artificial light dancing within them were mesmerizing—and the fact that I was so venomously impatient escaped my memory. Deep in his gaze, I noticed a glimmer of mischief brewing. He smirked and grabbed my hand, pulling it toward his mouth. My heart leaped; for a second I was sure he was going to kiss it—until his lips parted wide, and I was staring directly down the inside of his throat. "HEY!" I gasped, more sorely than was necessary for an innocent joke. With only an inch to spare before Clover would vacuum my fist, I yanked my hand from his grasp.

Clover let out a spill of laughter. It was a laugh that sung its way through my ears despite all the ruckus in the background. A laugh that was so infectious it made me smile despite myself. As my small grin became apparent, Clover's smile and laugh brightened even more. _Maybe this night won't be so insufferable after all,_ I thought, as my eyes melted into his amused stare. _So... pretty..._

His laugh faded into quiet and we continued to look into each other’s eyes, my smile beginning to mirror his in intensity.

With the snap of a finger, we were whipped out of our trance. "Come on, let's go! You guys can continue messing around once we get to the seats I payed for!" said Harriet as she and the other two carved their way through the crowd. Me and Clover followed.

**********

Vine was right, the seats offered a stellar view of the stage. And no doubt, my ears would keep ringing and buzzing long after we left this place.

The minutes ticked by as we sat at our table, and it was as if my pale skin and dark clothing rendered me invisible; blending me with all the other silver and black aesthetics. Even Clover, who was sitting next to me, didn't glance in my direction. He was enveloped in conversation with the other three who were sitting across from us. They were chattering on about old missions and which new establishments had Marrow's face plastered on a board of blacklisted nuisances. It was all meaningless dribble to me, and I paid little attention. I just stared ahead, watching as rivers of colorful machine-generated fog carpeted the stage—anything to distract me from those damned enticing trays of alcohol passing us by.

In the middle of a bout of laughter, Clover rested his hand on my thigh (seemingly without intent), and I flinched in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Clover said, lifting his hand away.

"It's alright," I responded, not meaning to make the boredom in my voice so sharp. Clover's smile dips a little, giving me a slight bit of guilt. I turned away, feeling so out of place. My thoughts shouted adamantly, _say something damnit! Anything! For gods' sake you don't need to get smashed in order to feel confident._ But I had nothing to say, nothing of any value to add. It wasn't like any of them were talking to me anyways.

Silence had fallen upon the other four. Harriet, Elm, and Vine were all looking at Clover and I, but mainly at Clover as he still hadn't dropped his stare. His frown had deepened further, and it was a look fraught with concern.

"What?" I asked.

"Are— Are you okay?" asked Clover.

"I'm fine," I answered him shortly, pushing myself from my seat. "Excuse me, I need to use the little boy's room."

Without realizing it, I had downed nearly three glasses of sparkling lemonade whilst sitting there, and the dam was definitely now on the verge of bursting. I headed off towards the restrooms, contemplating on whether or not I should tell them I was going, or simply ditch.

_ CLOVER'S POV _

_What the hell are you doing man?!_ my thoughts screamed in utter frustration. _You're blowing it! Why... WHY didn't you find some way to include him? Idiot..._

"I guess you're right Clover. This really isn't his scene," said Elm.

"You guys said you wanted to unravel the mystery that is Qrow Branwen, so why didn't any of you even attempt to talk to him?!" I said, so blatantly projecting my own self loathing.

"Well I did..." Vine said, meekly defending himself. "But he was fiddling with something on his scroll, and it looked like he'd bite my head off if I interrupted him."

I couldn't help but groan.

"I think that's just his resting face," said Harriet, stirring a lemon around in her iced tea.

"No it's not! He's just uncomfortable because we have all been icing him out," I muttered.

"Is that so? Then why haven't _you_ said anything to him?" scoffed Elm. "Wasn't this like your first date or something?"

Harriet and Vine lurched back in their seats, furrowing their brows—glancing over to Elm, then to me.

"What? I thought it was obvious..." Elm said, shrugging.

My face burned pink. "I— Well I would have said something if you people didn't keep roping me into those ridiculous anecdotes! Every time I tried turning to him one of you would rattle off, ‘ _Clover, remember when—_ "

I stopped myself, and took a deep breath, consoling my heart which was beating in a fluttering panic. "I'm sorry. I just really wanted him to have a good time."

The three sitting across from me exchanged pitiful looks. "Wow..." Harriet began. "We've worked together a long time and I've never seen you like this. It's weird. But also pretty cute," she said teasingly, reaching over to jab my shoulder.The other two nodded in unison, their faces lightening up.

"Heads up, he's coming back. You think he's coming to tell us he's leaving?" asked Vine.

"Definitely," Harriet said bluntly, chewing the tip of her bright red straw. "He’s gonna come say bye-bye, then scamper like a rabbit when the hawk flies over. I certainly wouldn't blame him,"

"Me neither," I sighed, turning my head over to Qrow. I put on a cheerful _"missed you, hun"_ type of smile as he approached our table.

"Hey," Qrow spoke, nervously rubbing the back of his neck—his eyes slightly inching towards the exit. "Look, I'm—“

"Qrow wait. Before you say anything, just know I want you to stay," I quickly interrupted, determined to salvage the night.

"Yeah come on! Have a seat, the opening performance is gonna start in like ten minutes," said Harriet, grinning with an inviting warmth. "We promise the super exclusive Ace Operative club talk is dead."

"Oh yeah! We're talkin' axed in the back, tied in a sack, dead!" chimed Elm. Odd-struck glances were shot over to her.

Figuring I'd take a chance, I extended my hand out to Qrow, with my eyes as pleading as a kitten's. "Please, sit...?"

As Qrow stared at my hand, his body froze. He clearly thought we didn't want him there; that inviting him was some huge awkward blunder. He was wrong, and I wouldn't give up until he realized it as clearly as I did.

At last, his hand closed around mine, and I led him back to his seat.

**_To be continued..._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who left kudos and comments on the previous chapter! I really hope you enjoyed this one. I ended up splitting this story because it ran a little long. The next part should be up the day after this is posted! :)


	3. The Free Night (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♦️Clover, with the “help” of his team, try to give Qrow a night he’ll never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a few OCs who'll play a part in future stories make their introductions in these parts. Clover's parents are even mentioned later on. Thank you so much AlphaWolf0215 (from Wattpad) for giving me permission to incorporate your parent OCs in these stories!

**TRIGGER WARNINGS:**

**Depictions & Discussions of alcoholism and drug use.**

_QROW'S POV_

There was not the time to get into much conversation before the opening performance started. I was this close to bolting out of the nightclub like a snake fleeing a bushfire, but the Ace Ops (especially Clover) stopped me dead in my tracks. They smothered me with apologies, and Clover might as well have been on his knees while he pleaded. He extended his hand with a smile and wide-eyed look that melted me. It was as if he and I were on a date or something, and the other three were third, fourth, and fifth wheels that butted in and ruined everything by stealing away all of his attention. It certainly made me weigh the options: either I slump back to my messy room and spend the rest of the night alone, like always—and have my curious mind continuously pester me on what the outcome would've been if I'd accepted their apologies and stayed. Or, I give socializing like a normal human-being another chance; after all, the worst that could happen is that I fall into the slums of silence again for a couple hours.

Another moment ticked, and my gaze continued to be locked onto Clover and his pleading open palm, and in my chest another unexpected feeling arose: _Look at that needy face! If you leave, that might really hurt his feelings. He could be the first REAL friend you've managed to stumble upon in a VERY long time. He's the first person who's semblance gives the middle-finger to yours! You cannot jeopardize this! For the first time in over 15 years your crappy life has given you a taste of companionship. Admit it... it was one of the best tastes you've ever experienced; puts a Jack Daniel's to shame..._

It was as if those raging thoughts came from my arm instead of my head, and my hand was suddenly in Clover's. I did it absently, not even completely making up my mind about staying. He let go once I was led back to my seat and instantly the other three hastened to thaw their cold shoulders, and they attacked me with questions.

"So Qrow, the moves you did on those escaped convicts the other day were amazing! Where in the world did you learn that crash-technique?"  
"Qrow, Ruby is one of the most skilled weapon wielders I've seen at her age. I'll admit, if I were one of her peers I'd be super jealous. She told me you were her teacher. How was she when she first started? —good? —average? —terrible?"  
"Qrow, you and your team were so young when Ozpin let you into his inner circle. What was that day like? How shocked were you when you learned... well, the truth?"

_The truth..._ I snorted inwardly. Chuckling nervously, I leaned back in my chair as if my personal space were being invaded. Their faces were gleaming with wide-eyed excitement—to the point where it came off like someone offered a big juicy bribe to act like borderline fanatics. I nearly regretted the decision to sit back down in that moment.

"Geez people," Clover laughed, "give the man some air."

"It's fine," I said, forcing a small grin. The first question (asked by Elm) was the easiest to tackle, so I started with that one. The story behind how I mastered that move wasn't all that interesting, but I tried my best not to answer as dully as I felt about it.

"Gosh, he sounds like one hard-ass professor," Elm responded.

"Meh, he was actually one of the better ones. I've dealt with far harsher mentors," I said. My casual shrugging sparked further curiosity in the other four.

I didn't have time to feed Harriet's rabid inquiry about Ruby and her skill level, as an announcer made his way onto the colorfully lit stage and took hold of the microphone, tapping on it to test the sound.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the monthly live performance hosted here, at the Silver Bridges Nightclub!" the announcer began, filling the building with jeers and applause. "While many exceedingly talented artists have played at our club before, it is quite a rare treat—especially in these trying times—that we manage to book a band that is as esteemed, and as perfected in their craft as these lovely ladies that make up the group, Pinkslip!" The announcer paused, allowing the crowd to hurl their enthused wails.

"While the fetchingly beautiful Pinkslip girls are doing some last minute preparations, we'd like to introduce a new aspect of these special live performance nights that we've been planning for a long time. As many of you know, a few months back we hosted a contest—the winner of which would get the outstanding opportunity to open for an incredibly famous band. We got A LOT of submissions. They were all from amazingly talented artists, which made it all the more difficult to select a winner." The announcer paused and reached into the breast-pocket of his tuxedo, pulling out an envelope. He took forever to open it, leaving the audience in purposeful suspense.

"Geez man... Are you opening an envelope or folding a napkin swan?" scoffed Harriet faintly, so the words didn't escape our table.

The announcer clears his throat. "Without further ado, the winner of our first contest is... Oliver Amysthene! Congratulations kid! Ladies and gentlemen please welcome him to the stage and enjoy the show!"

The room erupted as the announcer exited the stage, and a pale petite looking kid dressed in a purple double-breasted blazer and dark blue skinny jeans materialized from the shadowy back, carrying an electric guitar. His long black hair fell nearly down the whole length of his neck, and on the top of his head he supported the most eccentric feature about him: a large dark purple top-hat. He looked about my nieces' ages, but could've been 3 years younger, or ten years older—it was difficult to gage—and the way he dressed reminded me somewhat of them as well.

Harriet scoffed. "Out of everyone, they pick this pasty-faced Houdini wannabe?"

"You're just jealous because your audition tape didn't even make the second round," said Vine, and Harriet threw a furious glare upon him.

"Marrow is gonna be so mad he missed this!" Elm snickered.

"Guys, might I remind you that we're a literal few steps away from the stage..." Clover whispered.

The lights dimmed, and the thick swirling fog waterfalled off the stage and spilt its way under our table blanketing our feet. After a short countdown, the opener performance began. The vibrations rippling through the air gave me goosebumps. It was quite overwhelming at first, it'd been awhile since I'd been to a concert. Each riff of the guitar soared through my body, imprinting in my mind the imagery of crashing ocean waves. Though it was plenty loud with heavy drumming, the song was mellower than I expected; almost soothing, pleasant to the ears. He sung in a higher range with a voice as sweet as it was haunting. His pretty voice in teaming with the strong melodies of the guitar persistently infected my whole body with chills. It was almost as euphoric as blasting the radio while being heavily intoxicated.

"All my life..." he sang, "is changing every day. Every possible way. And all my dreams, never quite as it seems, never quite as it seems..."

Everyone at our table was swaying lightly to the melody, except for Elm, who was head-banging to the song completely off tempo. Clover looked over to me, no doubt to make sure I was at least content to be there, and his teal eyes gleamed seeing my upper body swaying dreamily with the music.

  
_ CLOVER'S POV _

**30 MINUTES LATER**

Within an hour at the club Qrow was finally starting to enjoy himself as I had been hoping for. Within a half hour more, everything soured...

The opening performance came and went, and it was lovely. I was thrilled to see Qrow melting into the vibe. I caught him swaying to the music and wanted so much to pull him into a dance as so many other’s were doing, but I compromised with that desire and instead swayed in unison with him, making my movements more ridiculous and bold as the song went on. It earned me a few laughs from Qrow, and he even started trying to outdo me. Had the song gone on longer who knows what could have happened...

Yes, the night was indeed beginning to flow in a direction that promised a wonderful destination. However once the song ended and the applause died into regular background chatter, the pleasant discourse deteriorated, and now Qrow was slumming his way towards the exit.

"Qrow, w-wait! Don't go!" I shouted, pleading. I turned back to the other three, casting a glare so filled with hurt and anger at them. They in turn stared back with ugly concern. I pushed myself from my seat and started after Qrow.

"Clover," Vine called, reproachfulness oozing from his voice.

I froze but didn't face them. "What?"

"I know you like this guy, but don't you think—"

"No," I bit back. Taking a deep breath, I turned around masking the hurt on my face with stoic professionalism. "I'll see you all at the mission briefings bright and early tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your night."

_How could they?_ my bitter thoughts raced as I pushed my way out of the club. _How could they be so suspicious and judgmental after spending ONE hour with him?_

It was everything I feared for tonight—it all went wrong so quickly. One minute, Qrow was finally starting to emerge from his shell by making us laugh with all these stories about the kids he came along with, but then a couple of irritating segways later we somehow ended up on the sore subject of his sister, and furthermore to the subject of his semblance. Elm, Harriet, and Vine would not drop it despite my constant interruptions to diverge from the subject. They were as hive minded as bees—once one of them started teetering cautiously around Qrow, the rest couldn’t help but fall in line behind their queen.

_"Considering your past, what was the reason you and your sister suddenly chose to attend Beacon?"  
"What do you mean you can't control your bad luck?"  
"I know you guys don't exactly get along, but you wouldn't interfere with the General's mission... right? _

On and on they went. Qrow’s growing disconcertedness only fed into their rising convictions of him, and the more uncomfortable he became, the harder they pressed.

Qrow didn't withstand their interrogation for very long. After answering a few of their incredulous probes and seeing them shift nervously in their seats for the _thousandth_ time, Qrow threw up his hands, finally having had enough. "Alright that's it. Trust me or don't, I couldn't care less," he said dryly to them, springing off of his seat. "I don't have to explain or justify myself to any of you. The lives I've saved, the sacrifices I've made, they all should speak for themselves."

Hearing him say that, I couldn't have agreed more. _I know he doesn't have the best rapport with Ironwood... and authority in general, but so what? He's dedicated YEARS of his life to Ozpin. Why isn't that enough for them?_ I thought as I burst through the doors and ran to catch up with Qrow. I called after him, finally getting him to slow to a stop on the vacant frosty sidewalk. He faced me, and the look he gave stung with the vigor of acid.

"I— Listen, I don't know what bug crawled up their asses tonight, but they were completely out of line!" I said.

I was only met with a deepend scowl.

"It's just— When we found out about Lionheart, it took a bit of a toll on all of us. And even before then we had to weed out a bunch of moles and traders trying to weasel their way up the ranks of the Atlas military. It's made us all a little paranoid, and for the past few months work has crept its way into every facet of our lives. I doubt they intended to interrogate you from the beginning, it's just what they've been trained to do."

"No I understand," Qrow spoke suddenly and coldly. "It's like this every damn time I end up somewhere new, and meet people who I'm forced to work closely with," he paused for a moment, his jaggedly sharp glare piercing deep into my eyes scanning for something. "You're Jimmy's right hand. I just don't understand why even after all that, _YOU_ still trust me."

My heart stiffened as from pain at the look in his eyes. _Does he think the bond we had was completely feigned this entire time? No... please. I swear on my life it wasn’t!_ A small lump settled in my throat. _Oh, damn those three!_

"We've been working together for awhile now Qrow, maybe I've been a little too greedy for your company—"

In an instant, Qrow's scowl vanished and his eyes widened. "A little greedy for my what?"

There was a flutter in my gut, and I chuckled a bit realizing the way that could've been taken. "What I meant was, out of the five of us I'm really the only one you've worked with so far. Once they've worked with you more they'll realize how valuable to the mission you are, and they'll trust you. Just like I do."

Tiny trickles of snow started floating down from the aurora lit sky, sticking to us as they made their landing. Qrow's stark black hair and long eyelashes became dotted with those tiny white crystals, and the fact that he didn't seem to notice them made him impossibly more adorable for some reason. The lump in my throat rose higher at the prospect of this adorable man slipping away from me. I wanted to take him into my arms and brush my fingers through his hair, sweeping off those little snow crystals and just make him feel wanted, and trusted.

His face softened, but still remained damper. Hopefully those scanning eyes of his picked up the hurt and sincerity written plainly all over my face, and he was assured. I couldn't help but feel betrayed, just as he did. _Ugh! How could they?_ I viciously thought again, clenching my fists slightly. Harriet especially, having no qualms about harping on Qrow for every minor infraction she found while intrusively going through his records that she evidently pulled from the General's database a couple days ago.

Qrow's gaze fell away from me, and his discouraged eyes were casted to the ground. Surely this night brought up a lot of painful memories, looking at Qrow in this state served to make me only _more_ furious at my team. _I'll deal with them tomorrow, right now I have to try and at least keep Qrow's friendship while he's still sticking around,_ I thought.

He continued to stand across from me, giving me hope that he was waiting for me to say something else. Taking this opportunity, I shuffled closer to him, earning back his gaze.

"I'm serious Qrow," I said, exuding as much warmth as I could summon. We were now at arm's length, and relief swept over me as Qrow continued to remain there, not turning away and leaving me in the dust. "Hey, remember on one of our rides I told you about this little hidden gem only a few minutes from the academy?"

Qrow's bottom lip quirked up in confusion. "You mean that tiny shack you swear has the best BBQ ribs and fried potato skins in all of Atlas?"

I let out a chuckle. "Yes. Have you..." I paused for a moment. _Can this night really be salvaged? If he agrees to grab a plate of ribs with me, and everything goes smoothly from here on out, maybe—maybe we CAN consider this a first date, if Qrow wants it to be. Woah...slow down, don't get your hopes up just yet, soldier_. "Have you tried that place out yet?"

"No... why?" 

"I was thinking, the night's still young, maybe we can ditch this pretentious hole-in-the-wall and grab a bite to eat. C'mon, I've heard your stomach rumble and tumble this whole evening, and your eyes were basically spiraling over those kabob trays. You can't tell me you're not starving," I said, laughing.

Qrow had a quick blush that faded as fast as it appeared, but I definitely caught it. "Those were nauseous rumblings. Your cologne has been smothering me," he said, finally smiling a little.

"Tell you what, if you come with me I'll never wear this cologne again, but if you refuse, I'll splash on double the amount every time we ride together in a transport," I said, smirking. I took a step closer to him, and his little crumb of a smile grew as his eyes averted off to the side again. "I promise, the food is paradise. What do ya say?"

_QROW'S POV_

There I was, again giving into Clover's pleadings—I've lost track of how many times I'd done so that night. No doubt if it'd been ANYONE else, I probably wouldn't even have given the courtesy of telling them face to face that I was bolting, opting instead for a laconic text message. A part of me agreed to continue spending my night out with him because curiosity nagged me to find out why exactly he kept asking me to stay, even going as far as lording the whole cologne threat nonsense over my head. I wanted to know why he seemed to like me so much. Sure, you could say I've had ample opportunity to ask on one of our numerous rides through the tundra, but those times were only spent with me out of forced obligation to a job (or so I thought at first). This was really the first time since we've known each other that it has, without a doubt, been confirmed that Clover WANTED to keep close. But why? —was this just a simple friendship to him? Was Jimmy paying him to keep himself stapled to my side to offset my bad luck from reeking havoc on his precious kingdom? Or... or, was the feeling perhaps the same as mine? —a small inexplicable crush that under his belt, probably wasn't as suppressed.

"Hey, Clover?" I asked, as we made our way to this little barbecue joint he raved about.

"Yes?"

"Why were you so insistent on us hanging out tonight? You were like a dog with a bone when you called me earlier, you wouldn't let it go even after I said I didn't want to come. And at the club—well—" I paused when I noticed a smidge of red on his cheek, and a smile that was unintentionally coming off as a bit ridiculous.

"Qrow, I was kidding about the whole cologne thing. I said you can leave anytime if you aren't feeling it anymore. Even though I want to grab a meal with you, it's okay if you hightail it back to your suite at the academy. I promise I won't—"

"Do I look like the love child of Ren and Vine to you? Of course I know it was a joke."

Snickering, Clover turned to me and scanned me up and down while continuing to carelessly walk backwards. "You actually kind of do."

"Mumbo-jumbo," I said, half-heartedly grinning and rolling my eyes. "Answer my question."

Clover spun back on his heels, right before they would've collided with a crookedly upturned slab on the icy pavement—the lucky fool. "You know, the other day I overheard you talking to one of your nieces about me. Yang, was it? Anyway, she joked about how the General seemed oddly cool-headed about you riding along on missions with the rest of us. The reason for that being, Ironwood making sure that I stay right by your side as your babysitter, being handsomely compensated for the gig of course. It made me laugh when I heard it, but I get the feeling you're asking me this right now because you're not entirely certain about my motives... correct?" He spoke without dropping his silly tone. However, tiny—almost microscopic—cues in his voice hinted at a bit of ache. 

"Believe it or not, he's done stuff like that before—" _The nosy meddling bastard,_ my thoughts choked. "Not that I think he hired you or anything—"

"Yes you did, I saw your face when you came out of that room. Remember?— it was right before the last ride we had in the transport before Election Day. And you hardly spoke to me the entire ride."

My gaze shifted off to the side in slight embarrassment for the poor concealment of my feelings that day. "I told you I was just tired. Anyhow, just like how we can't really blame your team for flapping and squawking like skinny nervous hens around me, you can't really blame me for having a little suspicion. After everything I've been through with James, I somehow stumble across a friend—a friend who is in his inner circle—a friend with a _good luck_ semblance, nonetheless."

There was a lengthy pause on Clover's end, then a sigh. "No, I suppose I can't blame you for having suspicions, I can't say I wouldn't feel the same if I were in your shoes." His voice was like a creole of hurt and pity—but suppressed pity, as he's long since figured out during our times spent together that pity directed at me is something I abhor. "I guess all I can do," he continued, "is promise you that Ironwood is not ordering me to follow you around. I asked you to come out with us tonight because I like hanging out with you Qrow. And I thought you liked hanging out with me too."

"I do," I answered him shortly, my voice not eking out any feeling but coming off as forcibly cool as a result. 

"Heh," Clover smirked, his eyes blossoming brightly at my shoddily contained vulnerability. 

There was a long stretch of silence again. Though his words sounded genuine, and his body language appeared sincere as it always did, there still remained a nugget of doubt stuck in my head no matter how much I tried to sweep it away. Doubt which in that moment, tried but failed to keep my tongue from continuing to open up to him. "Besides those gaggle of kids, you're really the first friend I've made in more than a decade. I guess I have trouble—" I paused, "I guess I have trouble trusting people, though I think that's pretty obvious."

Clover let out a friendly chuckle, and tilted his eyes over to me. "You know, a few years ago as a side gig, I worked as a correctional officer/guidance counselor for troubled teens."

"Oooh, I bet they hated you," I snickered. "The dominant straight-edge oppressive establishment look basically oozes from your pores. I'll admit you're a pretty chill fun guy, but upon first seeing you—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm ' _the man'_ and all that," he laughed. "Most of the kids I worked with certainly were...erm...a challenge. Everyone thought they were lost causes, that they were destined either for life in the slammer, or being holed up at the Chelsea Market with a needle sticking out of their arm, overdosed."

"What?"

"Don't ask. Anyways, I don't really believe in lost causes myself, and even though some of those kids weren't fortunate enough to make it out of the horrible ditch they've dug themselves into, I know that deep down, most of them wanted to. More than that, they actually wanted to do some good." He stopped walking and turned his whole body to face mine. "From the stories you've told me of your teenage bandit tribe days, I must say you remind me of those kids I used to work with. Those lost souls who wanted nothing more than to do good by their families, and contribute something meaningful to the world. You've been in their shoes, you've clawed your way out of that world and made something of yourself. You've saved so many lives, and contributed so much to the peace that was upheld before Beacon fell, and even afterward. You're the type of man those kids aspire to become. You're proof that prospering in this harsh world, and leading a fulfilling life is possible even for them. I respect that so much, Qrow." Unknowingly, my eyes were ballooning wide again as Clover reached for my shoulder. "Even if you have trouble trusting me, trouble letting me in, just know what I am telling you: I feel honored to have you as a friend."

I was at a loss for words, I felt awkward and relieved that the streets were still vacant except for us, but at the same time, listening to him rattle off that cheesy soliloquy made my pulse race. The dower mood that clung to me since the nightclub interrogation was gone, and I was in a safe place where I was trusted as an equal, where I was liked, and most importantly, where I was wanted. Clover's glinting teal eyes sung with admiration, and something else I couldn't quite place—something that jilted my heart even more. His fingers rubbed my shoulder for a moment before letting go, then continuing the walk.

_At least I didn't deflect the compliment this time..._ I thought.

Something warm slid down my cheek, and momentarily confused, I went to rub it off. I didn't notice it in time to keep it from lurching under my lips and into my mouth. _Salty warm liquid,_ "Oh crap..."

**********

Even before the tiny diner came into view, we were greeted by the mingled savory odors of burning hickory logs and roasting pork and beef. The chilly breeze that carried the scent felt warmer as we followed it, wrapping around us like a cozy quilt as we finally approached the building. Clover told me they grill their meats the old fashioned way, and did it in an outside yard too. I could tell he was right because the smells were unmistakable. They brought with them not only mouthwatering hunger, but waves of nostalgia for one of the very few good memories I had while growing up in the Branwen Tribe.

The barbecue pits which had probably been slowly burning all day long would now be troughs of dark red embers, with the meats turning on spits above them and the juices trickling down and hissing into the coals. The thought of it sent my famished body spiraling, and I felt I could live on this street corner forever.

"Aw yeah! The place isn't much to look at, but believe me the food makes these doors an equal to the pearly gates of heaven!" Clover cheered as we finally made it to the entrance of the diner.

"I have to admit, the cooking smells amazing," I said as I opened the glass paned door. It was an adorable little establishment, not how you’d picture a barbecue joint at all, but more reminiscent of those old soda shops. At the back there was a granite bar with cushy red stools and a lone employee at the register off to the far side of the counter. She looked up and grinned at us.

"Hello Clover, good to see you! Would you like your usual for tonight?" she said. 

Clover turned to me with eager anticipation and said, "What do you say to a huge plate of smoking ribs and a bucket of potato skins? You up to the challenge?"

I knew there was a whole menu to browse, but the prospect of sweet barbecue sauce and tender meat sliding off bone was too enticing to pass up. I was so hungry my legs felt like they’d give from weakness, while my head felt almost light enough to float away. I did not want to delay the arrival of food by even a minute by scanning a menu. I turned to Clover and nodded like a simpleminded toddler, unaware of the trickle of drool dripping from my lip.

Clover laughed and turned back to the tall, sweet sounding brunette lady behind the counter. "You know me so well Bethany! And make it double for my friend here." 

"Gotcha, chich," she said. 

Turning, she gave me a knowing passing look, as if to say: " _he's definitely gettin' lucky tonight!_ " My cheeks flushed at the thought. She exited through a door in the back and Clover led me to what was his usual table. It was one of the tables at the front, which was directly under the only window in the whole dining area. The window was large enough to give the place plenty of natural light when it needed it, and not make the diner feel so stuffy and closed off. It was one of those tables that was secured to the floor, and had large padded red benches on both sides for seating. I sat down, and Clover sat across from me scanning the beverage section of the menu. He and I were the only patrons there, save for one other guy perched at a small single-person table at the far side of the diner. His face was a familiar one from the night. He was tiredly propping up his head with an arm, scowling with pure irritation as his other hand fiddled with his scroll while also tapping the toe of his shiny black shoe. 

"Qrow," Clover spoke suddenly, peeping up from his menu. "I don't know how you feel about caramel, but you've gotta try this amazing drink they have. Nonalcoholic of course. It's called—"

"Hey check this out," I said, cutting into his spiel. As discreetly as possible I pointed to the other guy at a table as far from us as one could get in this small joint. "It's the guy that opened for that band at the club. Oliver was his name...I think. I wonder what has him so worked up..."

"What a small world," Clover said, marveling. "He was great wasn't he? How about we do our good deed for the night and cheer this kid up?" My eyes widened with slight mortification as Clover began to wave at the boy. I don't like disturbing people, as I know first hand how abhorrent it is to have one of your brooding sessions interposed suddenly with these abrupt injections of positivity.

I was about to flag Clover down, but fortunately the bartender reemerged from the back and summoned the attention of Oliver first.

"Your friend has been in the restroom for a long time now. He was very drunk, as you know, when you came to get him," said Bethany the bartender. "Perhaps you should go in and check on him."

Oliver groaned incredulously. "Right. He's probably blotto on the floor, isn't he." He stood, rolling his eyes and sliding the scroll in a pocket of his purple coat.

Clover also stood, wearing a jovial expression laced with crumbs of amusement. "Need some help? I—"

Before he could finish his offer, the door to the restroom swung open, and out stumbled a hard looking red headed young man, who looked like a huntsman suited for a climate completely the opposite of the Solitas tundra. His shoulders were as broad as Clover's, and he wore an unzipped yellow and black shirt that was obviously way too small, to the point of indecency. Practically all of his chiseled abdomen was exposed, reminding me of a certain monkey boy who followed my niece's team around.

"You're as slow as molasses in January," Oliver snapped.

"Saw'y," he slurred in response. He slumped over to the counter, so blatantly ogling the bartender. "What da I owes ya, sweetheart?" he slurred, resting his elbows on the bar and leaning over it. The red headed brute had a handsome face, but the drunken confident smirk he was giving off was vomit inducing.

"No need hun, your friend already took care of that. Go home and get some rest. Be careful on those icy roads," she said, grinning humorously.

He shot at Oliver with a venomous glare, and turned back to the kind woman. "Don't youz mind my roommate, he has places ter be. How'z about you an I go—"

"Dane— Dane Gustorian?!" Clover suddenly interjected. Carrot top sloppily loped himself around to face us. "I'll be damned, it is you," Clover smirked.

"Small world indeed..." I mumbled, still being the only one who remained seated.

"Clover. Ah man I'z missed you!" Dane said, breaking out into boastful laughter.

Clover glanced back at me over his shoulder. "He was one of the kids I—well—counseled."

"And now he's somehow my cross to bear," Oliver grumbled under his breath.

Clover crossed his arms like a disapproving father at the obnoxious drunkard. His smirk was still there, but it was reproaching. "Still getting into drunken tizzies aren't we Dane? I wonder what goodies I'll find from pulling up your updated file—"

"Nah sir!" Dane quickly rebuffed. "I iz a huntsman now. I haven't been in any trouble! I swear it! Not a bar brawl involving shardz of broken liquor bottles since that last Halloween we'z spent together. I promish!" He belched so forcefully it nearly threw him back. "Just havin' a little election night fun."

His limp neck turned to me, and he winked. "I don't believe I'z met you yet, handsome," Dane said, slumping over to our table. I could catch a whiff of beer, bringing back some unsavory cravings—I couldn't help but grimace and lurch back. _This kid's going to have one nasty bullet-head in the morning..._

"Hey!" Clover nearly pounced on him the instant he caught my lips twinging.

"Oh, youz wants in too? I lak where this is goin'," he slurred, trying but colossally failing to infuse his voice with heaps of suaveness and swagger.

"Name of the gods!" Oliver screeched uproariously. "We're going now, or I'm pressing charges for those 'delayed' rent payments."

"Stawp it! Stawp ruinin' my game Oli." _HICCUP!_ "I'm tryin'a score here."

"You'll score with anyone tonight when goliaths roost in hedges!"

"Psssh!" Dane waved off Oliver's convictions, and continued to make a move towards me.

For a moment, I noticed something ugly that went beyond mild annoyance flickering behind Clover's eyes, and instantly his large hand was latched to the back of Dane's small shirt, and he hoisted him off the ground, dangling him like a lion who'd picked up it's cub by the scruff. Clover spun around, and lifted him even higher before dropping Dane to the floor.

Oliver threw back his head and cackled as Dane fell over and his palms did a hard _SPLAT_ on the cold tile. 

"If only I haz a shattered liquor bottle right now..." Dane snorted. "Nah! I'm kiddin' Cloves, we're still tight bro! Fine, Oli. I think I'm ready ter sleep this off now."

"Wonderful!" Oliver cheered sarcastically, and, with the assistance of Clover, helped his roommate off the floor. Murmurings could be heard of: "You get hammered and pull me out of a concert I got to perform at for free again, and I'm booting you to the curb!" as Oliver, supporting Dane on his shoulder, pushed open the exit and waddled out of the diner. 

"Well, that was certainly something wasn't it?" Clover said, laughing as he sat back down. 

"I guess so," I chuckled. "You know, it was kind of like looking in the mirror. If you were ever curious about what I was like at my worst—well—there you go."

"Did your nieces ever have to come get you when you were in a state like that? Sorry if I'm prying." 

"Nah, you're good. Regrettably, Yang had to come get me out of a strip club once. I puked on her gauntlets and flirted with the cab driver. Unbeknownst to me, she was someone I hooked up with previously while in a drunken stupor, and I didn't remember her. So she stranded us on an intersection."

"Oh no..." said Clover, with a face that read unsuredness on whether it was appropriate to laugh or not.

"It was mostly their father that saved my ass from sticky situations like that. My drunk self would amuse him in the old days, but he quickly grew frustrated with me." My fists clenched as I looked back to those years. Memories with my family during that time were telescoped, having the quality of a barely recalled dream. "Tai ended up distancing me from himself and the girls more and more as they grew older—to the point where I only got to see them for short visits sparsely scattered throughout the decade whenever a mission brought me close to Patch. That was probably for the best, as I was always a walking zombie every time I saw them anyways. Those poor kids were already burdened with enough stress, and if they knew how truly bad the problem was..."

"But, weren't you Ruby's mentor?" Clover added.

"Tai allowed me to take her under my wing, so long as I cut back and improved, so I did. I tried to quit altogether during that time, but—" I sighed, implying through gesture that it was an attempt that crashed and burned miserably. "Then, in the few months before we landed here, the problem started showing itself at its worst again. I became a nuisance to the kids, a burden, basically the team's wet blanket they couldn't get rid of." My eyes trailed off to the side as those memories and feelings began to swallow me. Then, in a move that caused my gaze to whip back to him, Clover rested his hands on my tensely clenched paws.

"Qrow," he began, "you're doing so well. It's been months since you came here and you've already come so far. But sometimes, I have to admit I do notice you struggling. Have you ever considered reaching out for support? Like going to meetings, or—"

"No." Reflexively, I jerked my hands away. "No, I can kick this myself, like you've said already it's been months. I haven't had one drink since."

Clover nodded understandingly, and glanced down at his hands for a moment. "You know, you remind me of someone. I'm not talking about those troubled kids, but someone from my past who was a huge part of my life, and sadly went down a very dark path..."

"Oh...?" I breathed with a bit of sorrowful intrigue. "Who?"

"Well, they weren't an alcoholic per say, but she definitely abused substances. I was just a kid at the time, and I was always terrified for her. She was wonderful to me before the problems started... but, as you're aware, substances change people. I was too young to really understand what she truly needed. I didn't realize it until I was much older, but now it's clear as day that the main thing missing for her was a stable support system. I'd give _anything_ to go back in time, and be the support system she needed." Clover's voice cracked, causing him to automatically wipe under his eye, though no tears were falling yet.

The past few moments stirred up a flurry of emotions in me, I wasn't sure if I was even hungry anymore. Clover's eyes grew bashful as he looked further down to the hands cupped in his lap. I wanted to say something, anything to brighten him back up, because when his mood blooms like a sunflower, mine somehow ends up following. "Clover," I began. He looked back up at me. "I think you may have a point."

"Really?" he said, the bashfulness already beginning to ebb away.

"These last couple months, I've found this particular quitting attempt to be the most smooth sailing one ever. My nieces and those crazy whack-a-moles played a huge part in that of course—but..." Clover's head quirked curiously to the side. "...I think you played a big part in it too. Without you, I honestly don't know how I'd be coping without the booze."

His handsome eyes glistened with elation, they grew so wide and bright I saw my smile reflected in them.

"What you said, about having a nice support system... well you guys are it. Ruby, Yang, Maria, the kids, and... you." A goofy blush took hold of my cheeks as Clover leaned forward slightly, and once again laid his hands gently on top of mine.

"Yes Qrow. I'm there for support, anytime you need me. I'll always try my best to be there for you, I promise." 

**********

The night went on and I must say, the laughs, the banter, the excellent dinner, the company, all crammed together in this last half hour made sitting through that insufferable stretch of time earlier in the night completely worth it.

"What'd I tell ya? I didn't over hype the food did I?" said Clover boastfully. 

"No comment," I uttered while chin deep in a cut of tender prime rib.

Clover wiped his face with a napkin, the rich barbecue sauce leaving sticky stains on both of our faces no matter how much we swiped over them with the paper. "You know, there's a secret about this place I haven't told you yet," he said, trying to stir up a raised eyebrow from me. "It's the reason why it's my favorite restaurant in all of Atlas. Hell, it's the reason why I know this place even exists at all."

My focus was not pulled away from trying to scrape off the last bits of precious meat from the bone, but I inquired nonetheless. "Is that so?"

"Indeed," Clover smirked. "One of my old teammates from Atlas academy is really good friends with the owner of this place. And—you see—this is her recipe for prime rib that we're eating. Well I'm eating it, you're doing your best impression of an emaciated hyaena." 

Clover won the grapple with that pesky scrap of meat vying for my attention, and the bone was negligibly dropped back onto my plate. "Are you serious?" 

"As a heart attack."

"These are the best damn ribs I've ever eaten, and you're telling me your teammate came up with the recipe?!"

"That's right," Clover giggled. "My former teammate Tabitha used to whip these up on special occasions for us. Coming here, and eating the food takes me back to those uppity academy days."

"Huh," I grinned, my curiosity peaking further. "I don't think you've ever mentioned your old team before." 

"I haven't...?" Clover said, scanning the archives of his brain. "No I guess I didn't." He reached for a small pocket on his shirt that I had never noticed before, and pulled out what appeared to be a tightly folded piece of paper. He unraveled it, and handed it to me.

It was a lovely picture that displayed Clover in his youth, along with five other bodies, three who were obviously his teammates, and two who were older than the rest. Young Clover stood front and center in the old photo, with a vibrant green uniform no doubt used for battle. Beside him were characters who were just as lively and vibrant in their own right. 

There was a tiny girl who looked no older than being on the cusp of puberty, standing there in her brick-red dress dotted with little white polkas. The red and white bonnet on her head of short golden curls and big doe eyes only added to her look of innocence. Next to her stood a tall careless looking fella with a black and orange aesthetic, he had a wild mane of shiny black hair, and was twirling around his finger a trinket in which I had sworn I'd seen Clover twirl around before... the horseshoe. And the last teammate standing to the left of Clover was a large, stocky woman, her long dark hair was intricately braided, and she possessed at her side a massive staff that resembled a bone.

"Team CBLT (cobalt), that was our name," Clover started. "I was the leader, and then there was Dream Bittleton—the one in the polka dot dress. You wouldn’t think it, but she was an absolute hothead. People always underestimated her because of her appearance. Nowadays she's actually a famous tv personality here in Atlas. She talks in this proper newscaster voice, but naturally she has the most beautiful charming countryside accent.

"The guy with the ridiculous black mullet is Leon Stanley. He was a wild party animal. Popular with everyone, the ladies especially. He had a bit of a reckless streak, it was hard for me as leader to reign him in sometimes. But if I could give him any sort of credit, Leon is the one that helped me be less uptight and relax more.”

Something about the way Clover said ‘ _relax’_ made my ears slightly perk up. I focused on the Leon rascal a bit more, my eyes drawn to the little horseshoe whirling around his finger. _Should I ask?... Nah. It was a long time ago._

“He was actually almost a part of the Ace Ops,” Clover continued. “He was certainly up to the General’s standards, but he just didn't want to be tied down like that. Nowadays I have no idea what he's gone up to. I know he's probably still a huntsman, and he's ditched that mullet last I saw.

"And then there's the culinary genius, Tabitha Wish. She was very motherly towards us. When we started she was actually in her mid 20s and already had a child. She'd always prepare the most extravagant feasts whenever it was a holiday or one of our birthdays, and always acted as resident doctor when one of us caught the stuffies. I don’t know if she’s a huntress still, but she moved to Argus and opened a brilliant restaurant."

"Interesting," I marveled, studying the two older adults. One was giant and muscular and she towered over the rest of them, even the similarly built Tabitha. Her eyes gave off a warm homely glow. The other one had the same homely aura, but a tad more reserved. Unlike the aforementioned amazon, his height and build was average and he wore on him a pilot's uniform. Plus, he resembled Clover to the point where their face's could be rendered identical—save for extra wrinkles, different hair, and glasses. 

"Who are the other two in the picture?" I asked.

"Oh, those are my parents," said Clover with a mouth full of potato skins. "My mom, Joanna, was a well known huntress in her day."

"Yeah... of course! I recognize her now! She was the leader of Team... umm..." I snapped my fingers, trying to summon comprehension back to me. "JSTC (justice)! That's it! Right?"

"You got it champ!" Clover laughed and reached over to pat my hand. "And my dad, Trevor, was a pilot for the Atlas military. He rose quite high through the ranks in his heyday."

"Where are they now? Are they still... alive?" I asked cautiously. 

Clover's smile turned slightly melancholic, as his eyes deviated a little off to the distance. "Yes they're still alive, but we've basically been cut off ever since the fall of Beacon. For the past couple years we've only had a relationship through occasional sent letters that sometimes don't even make it in transit. I miss them so much, I wish they didn't decide to retire in Vale."

A moment passed, and Clover's gaze became ever more distant. In an effort to bring upon some small comfort, I reached my hand across the blue table and rested it on his, as he'd done for me earlier. Clover glanced down at my hand, then returned his eyes to me. He grinned again, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Suddenly, his hand flipped so our palms were touching, and his fingers closed around my wrist. My heart quickened, and the rapid thuds were accompanied by red spilling across both of our faces when Clover's thumb began stroking my skin.

"Qrow, can— Can I ask you something?" Clover stammered nervously, holding his eyes on mine.

His beautiful shy teal eyes killed me dead, and my body was stiffened from rigor mortis. I never knew what the look frozen on my face in that moment was, but I’m sure it was a smack-gaudy idiotic one.  
  
I could do nothing but mechanically nod, and Clover resumed, first taking a deep breath, then asking: "Was... Was this a date?"

Comprehension of his words wouldn't seep in that night. Immediately after the question was posed, the special emergency alert programmed into our scrolls began wailing, making life jolt back into my body and having us both jump out of our skins.

"Trouble with the election..." I said, looking at my scroll.

A manticore grimm zooming past the window caught our attention—there would be more where he came from surely.

"Damn it!" said Clover as we both sprung off the benches.

_Wow. This was definitely a night for the books...And I didn't even get to finish that damned bucket of potato skins!_ I thought, rolling my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My main OCs Oliver and Dane did play little parts in this. The song Oliver performed was Dreams, by The Cranberries—it’s one of my personal favorites! They may appear in more stories in the future, who knows. ☺️


End file.
